Paradise Lost Chapter 8: Acceptance
by Denise Nicole
Summary: When a witch makes a small mistake, it affects more than she ever realized it could. ML. BtVSDA Crossover Don't let that scare you. March 12, 2001
1. March 12, 2001

**Paradise Lost  
Chapter Eight - Acceptance **

_A/N: It has taken me some time to get to a point where I could work on this again, but it finally happened. If you are just tuning in, please read the earlier parts first. If you have been a regular viewer, you may wish to re-read a few of the most recent chapters, as a refresher._

_I have decided that, since it does take me quite a while for updating, that Chapter 8 shall be posted in "chunks" (duck, Bethesda). Chapters will be listed individually on and each day will be posted in about two-three week intervals, depending on how busy I am. With this setup, Chapter 8 will last for...bunches of weeks._

_Any and all credit I have goes to my two awesomest betas – Alaidh, who handles the proofreading and the DA side of things, and Tallera, who handles additional proofreading, and the Buffy side of things. Any change that they drop goes to the rest of you in the wings who have been so supportive of me._

_This chapter is dedicated to all of those who aren't quite sure where they belong..._

* * *

_March 12, 2001_

"I'm going to kill her," Buffy said through clenched teeth as she burst through the door of the Magic Box, the bell jingling wildly.

Giles glanced up at her from the book he was reading, peering at her over the rim of his glasses. "Who?" he asked. The answer could be a different person any given day of the week.

"Max. Who else? I bet I could take her. Except I wouldn't put it past her to fight dirty..." Buffy trailed off as she pondered her best mode of attack.

"Buffy..." Giles warned.

"What?"

Giles took his glasses off and began to clean them. "As much as I realize that you are most likely trying to be humorous in the face of your frustrations, this is not the best way to go about it. Need I remind you8212;"

"Yeah, yeah. 'Don't kill the chimera.' Giles, we haven't heard from Mickey—"

"Maurice."

"Maurice since he called with his cryptic message. Isn't there some kind of statute of limitations on this sort of thing? Warning of doom and death, time goes by without a word, and voila! I'm allowed to kill her." Buffy gave Giles her most charming grin, hoping he would see the bonus of her side.

Giles sighed very Britishly. "I hate to venture into the trap that I am surely headed directly towards, but...why would you want to kill Max?"

"She—"

"I'm going to kill her," Logan said through clenched teeth as he burst through the door of the Magic Box, sending the bell jingling wildy. He gave his wheels an angry push as he rolled down the ramp, which had recently been installed on half of the front stairs.

"Dear God. It's contagious," Giles mumbled as he rolled his eyes.

"Hey, wait! I was first in line! I called killing her_ weeks_ ago," Anya piped up from behind the counter, where she was working on the store's ledgers. "I don't know about where you're from, buster, but in _this_ time there are no cuts!"

Buffy looked at Logan quizzically. "You seemed okay with it before. Why the sudden team switch?"

Logan raised a wry eyebrow as he glanced at Buffy. "Just because I can deal with it doesn't mean I like to."

"Yeah, but still..."

"Would either of you _mind_ telling me what is going on here, before I start up a vote to kill the two of you?" Giles groused at them.

Buffy and Logan looked at each other sheepishly for a minute. Buffy sighed. "We don't really want to kill her, Giles."

He sighed and smiled. "I'm aware of that."

"I still want to kill her," Anya offered.

"I'm quite aware of that, too, Anya," Giles said without daring to turn and look at her. "But obviously the two of you have found some reason to be miffed with the girl."

"She got in a bar fight last night," Buffy finally admitted.

Giles blinked at her few times, waiting for the punch line. When none was forthcoming, he asked, "So? As I recall, she got in a bar fight her first night here."

Logan shook his head. "Actually that was a fist fight."

"What's the difference?" Giles questioned in frustration.

"The difference _is_," Max replied from the entryway to the shop, "that chairs aren't often thrown in a fist fight."

Giles, Buffy, and Logan turned to look at her. Buffy and Logan blushed at the realization that she'd probably heard them. Giles continued to look mildly perplexed at the entire situation. He glanced at the door briefly before returning his attention to Max, noting that in addition to her usual jeans and leather jacket, she'd added a pair of dark sunglasses and a baseball cap. "I would assume that the reason these two are plotting your assassination is because you had a chair thrown at you last night."

Max shrugged. "Not exactly." She pulled off the cap and glasses. "It's because I got hit with the chair that got thrown at me."

Giles slowly stood in astonishment as he took in the sight of the massive purple and black bruise that extended from the right side of her forehead down to parts of her jaw. There was a long, thin gash that ran the entire length of her cheek. Giles walked over to get a better glance, but Max quickly replaced the glasses and cap. "Why did you not _move_ if a chair was thrown at you? You certainly have the capabilities."

Max huffed a sigh, rolling her eyes behind her glasses. "Because if I had dodged the chair, I would have been knifed in the gut, Giles. Not quite as easy to shake off." She brushed by him and walked down the steps, giving only the barest glance at Anya before turning a chair at the main table backwards and straddling it. "Look, I didn't expect this to happen. Someone was doing some business that went sideways, and the whole place got involved in the aftermath. I had no choice but to get involved."

"You were lucky you didn't get killed," Giles grumbled under his breath.

Max pulled down her glasses to glare at him, not appreciating his tone. "I'm _lucky_ I got out before the cops got there."

"Being thrown in jail would be infinitely more preferable to being thrown in a grave!" Giles was getting annoyed, not understanding why Max wasn't getting his point.

Logan saw the color begin to rise in Max's face, and knew that if he didn't intervene, she was likely to say something _he'd_ regret. He moved over to her and put a hand on her shoulder, as much to keep her in place, as it was to show his support. "Max," he whispered sternly before turning his attention to the other man. "Giles, Max understands that you are simply worried about her safety, and she will do her best not to be killed in the time she's here, right, Max?" Not getting a response, he gave her shoulder a sharp squeeze.

"Hey! Yeah. Right." Max looked at Logan and frowned. "You don't have to squeeze so hard," she murmured testily.

"And, Max, Giles does realize that although you do recognize the inherent danger in the mysterious message he received, you can't be expected to live in a box until it is clarified. And that includes doing the things you normally do, right, Giles?"

Giles didn't reply to Logan's patronizing tone, until Buffy, standing next to him, kicked him sharply in the ankle. "Ow! Yes, of course I realize that. But—"

"Good," Logan interrupted him. "Now that that's settled, we can all move on, right?"

Max and Giles both glared at Logan. "Right," they replied in unison.

Buffy tried her best not to laugh at all of them. Her chest was beginning to hurt from the effort. Instead, she took a seat at the table next to Max, and looked at Logan. "You did that well. Just like Mom."

Max blanched. "Oh, no..." she whispered.

Buffy caught her train of thought. "How are you going to manage to avoid this one? You were lucky that Mom wasn't home this morning when you walked in that door. Once she sees your face..."

"Maybe I can just... stay away. Hang elsewhere until this heals up?" Max offered, thinking quickly.

Buffy shook her head. "You may heal fast, but that still looks like it'll take a few days. Mom's had that Mom Radar locked on you since that first morning you were here. You're gone for too long, she's gonna know something's wrong and hunt you down."

With a mildly panicked look in her eyes, Max turned to Anya in desperation. "Anya, maybe I could stay with—"

"Absolutely not. I'd rather kiss a rabbit."

Logan couldn't help but laugh. "Come on, Max. You might as well just face up to her," he teased.

"No."

Giles sighed, pushing his earlier concern aside. "We have some herbs here that might help with the healing, and I could make a salve for that cut," he offered, an olive branch for peace.

Max warily narrowed her eyes at him.

Buffy caught the look, and tried to assuage Max's concerns. "It's cool, Max. He's used some of the stuff on me before. It really helps."

Max nodded and stood, walking with him to the storage room in the back of the shop. "I did get this bruise on my stomach that kinda hurts. Do you think you can help with that, too?" Buffy and Logan heard her ask as they walked away.

There was a pause before Giles exclaimed, "Dear God! Is that a footprint?"

Buffy and Logan looked at each other and laughed.

* * *

It lay on the table, unmoving. She ran a long red fingernail down its bulky frame. But even with its stature, she wasn't sure that it was worthy to be deemed "male" or "female." What it was...was a castoff. An amalgam of scraps and castoffs that had itself become a castoff.

Until her minions found its mangled body and brought it to her. What a wonderful present!

It needed a little repair, of course, but nothing she couldn't handle...with the assistance of a minor incantation.

She looked down at the shimmering red gown she wore to celebrate this special occasion. She smoothed out a teeny wrinkle, making a mental note to kill her tailor, and then turned her attention back to her gift. She lifted a hand and signaled the troll-like beings that worshipped her, and they began to chant as she spoke to it.

"Your purpose before...doesn't matter. Your purpose now...is like that of all others. To do _my_ bidding." She grinned, her brilliant white teeth standing out against the contrast of the blood red lips, which perfectly coordinated with her dress. Obviously. "Of course, that's not really the difficulty here, is it? I mean, who _wouldn't_ want to do my bidding? It's just those select few who don't _get it!_ But _you_, my wonderful little undead jigsaw puzzle...you're my solution to that pesky little problem."

She looked up from the creature, and saw that her minions had stopped chanting, and were now looking at her expectantly. She leaned down next to one gray ear, and whispered just one word.

"Awaken."

* * *

_March 14, 2001 - coming February 20._


	2. March 14, 2001

_A/N: See previous chapters and chunks for pairings and disclaimers and other such stuff. As for spoilers…Buffy S5, DA S1. That's it. Also, please make sure your review contains an email, if your comment requires a response._

* * *

_March 14, 2001_

Logan looked in the bathroom mirror and pulled at the collar of his dress shirt. He was a little miffed at Max when she brought it to him. She'd borrowed it from one of her poker buddies, saying that if she had to dress the part, so did he. He sighed and inspected himself one last time in the mirror. He had to give Max some credit. He _did_ look pretty good, and knew that more than the chair would draw some eyes to him that night. Max would take care of the rest of the eyes. He sighed, wondering why he'd even agreed to go along with this scheme of hers, and left the bathroom.

He wheeled out through the living room, and met Buffy by the stairs, where she was chatting with her mother. Buffy eyed him and gave a low whistle. "You sure clean up nice. Where'd the shirt come from?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "One of Max's cronies. Considering what she's told me about them, I wouldn't have expected this," Logan lifted his arms, indicating the shirt, "to have come from one of their closets." He looked up the stairs. "I take it Max isn't ready yet?"

It was Buffy's turn to roll her eyes. "She might have been, if Dawn hadn't been helping." She eyed her mother. "I told you we should have penned her up."

Joyce looked back at Buffy and then slid her glance over to Logan. "Which one?" she asked wryly, with a slightly pensive look on her face. "Are you sure Max is up to going out?"

Logan shrugged. "She says she is."

"Why does that not make me feel better?" Joyce sighed. She'd seen Max's face when they'd come back from the Magic Box two days ago. Max had first blinked in surprise at the tongue-lashing she'd gotten from the older woman, and had then laughed it off, unsubtly ignoring any more of Joyce's concerns and protests. Joyce couldn't help but feel a touch of hurt at the blatant move, thinking that Max had finally let her guard down between them when she was ill a few weeks ago. Obviously that guard had snapped right back up.

Buffy walked up a few of the steps and yelled upstairs, "Max, you'd think being in the army would have taught you to be on time!"

Max's voice came floating back to them a few seconds later. "Bite me."

Logan laughed. "You deserved that one, for calling her army."

Buffy shrugged. "Hey, I figure even if she came down to kick my a—butt," she corrected herself with a quick look at her mom, who had raised an eyebrow at her oldest daughter, "at least she'd be down here."

Joyce had a slightly pensive look on her face as she asked, "Are you sure it's a good idea for you all to be going out tonight?"

"Mo-_om_," Buffy whined, pained. "We've been through this already. Max is fine, has been fine. The gang is due for a break, and Max and Logan need money. The Bronze is the perfect spot for all of us."

"The Bronze? For money?" Joyce questioned with a frown. "Since when?"

"Since Willow mentioned the pool table there," Max replied as she reached the top of the stairs. Ignoring the widening eyes of the three at the bottom, she began down, swatting Dawn's hands away from her hair. "Where there's a pool table, there's always a few sharks circling for a little extra cash."

Logan couldn't comment. He was busy trying to figure out where all the blood in his head had gone. He was also trying to figure out how Max managed to walk down the stairs in those…those…_pants_.

The bottoms of the black leather pants were tucked into a pair of shiny black boots with a rather high heel. Logan swallowed hard as he followed the path of those pants as they clung tightly to Max's slim, muscular legs and rose to a point _very_ far south of her navel, which now had a silver ring in it. There was a large span of golden skin between the pants and the cropped top, which was a siren red, clung nearly as tightly as the pants, and gathered over one shoulder, leaving the other tantalizingly bare. Logan desperately ratcheted his gaze up to her face, and saw that her full lips were now glistening the same red as her shirt and her eyelids had been shaded a smoky gray.

Max raised one slim eyebrow as she tried not to smirk at Logan's obvious reaction to her clothing. "See something you like?" she asked coyly.

All of Logan's missing blood flooded back into his face as he felt himself begin to blush. "No, just feeling…" he swallowed to steady himself, "overdressed."

Max grinned. "Just checking."

Joyce opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking as though she wanted to say something to Max before she finally settled on asking Buffy, "Who's going to be there tonight?"

Buffy shrugged as she reached for her jacket. "The usual crowd, minus Giles. I think he'd decided he'd rather hang out with his books instead of in the 'den of iniquity,' I think is the phrase he used."

Joyce eyed Max again before saying, "What about Xander?"

Buffy's eyebrows knit together. "What about him?"

Joyce tilted her head at Max, indicating her state of dress. Max raised her eyebrow, intrigued that Joyce wouldn't just come out and say anything. Before Buffy could answer, Max shrugged and replied, "I talked to Anya this afternoon."

All eyes turned to Max in surprise. "You did?" Buffy asked, that either of them would speak to the other willingly. "What did you say?"

"I told her what I was going to wear," Max said simply. "If she has any sense, she's going to knock Xander's boots clean off him."

Logan groaned as Buffy grinned and said, "Sounds about right." Seeing her sister reaching for Max's hair again, she pointedly said, "Dawn, leave Max's hair alone."

Max whirled and gave Dawn a sharp look. "Don't." She turned away from the surprised girl and grabbed her jacket off of the banister. "Let's bounce," she said crisply to everyone, and led the small group out the door.

* * *

Flashing lights pulsed with the beat of loud music pounded out by a small band, and young people crowded the floors, dancing to the piercing wails of the female lead singer. More people milled in and out of the throng with either large mugs of coffee, or drinks of an alcoholic variety. All of the dancers, drinkers, and talkers seemed to hover somewhere between high school and college age, and were of all varieties: nerds to jocks to preps to loners.

"Crash, it isn't," Max commented from the doorway, cautiously examining the scene.

Logan glanced up at the tone in Max's voice and saw the longing in her eyes. She was right: the Bronze wasn't Crash. It was another reminder of where they weren't. And, these days, the more reminders there were, the more homesick Max seemed to get. Hell, even though he wasn't a "regular" at Max's usual hangout, he really missed it. They were both saved from further depressing thoughts when Buffy let out a small hoot.

"Oh, there they are!" Buffy smiled and waved to Willow and Tara, who were seated together on a small sofa near a pink-topped pool table. Buffy quickly pranced over to them, with Max and Logan slowly following. "Hey, guys!" she said happily.

Willow and Tara looked up at Buffy's gleeful call and smiled, waving the three of them over. "We've been guarding the table for you," Willow told Max and Logan.

"But not many…many people have been wanting to use it," Tara added timidly.

Max looked at Logan and shrugged. "Once we get going, the sharks will come out of the woodwork." She could already feel some stares from some of the patrons; it was time to begin attracting some of the right attention.

Buffy looked at Willow and Tara and frowned. "I thought Xander and Anya were going to meet us here. They not around yet?"

The two women looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "Oh, they're around," Willow mumbled. Tara glanced over one shoulder and then cocked a thumb in the direction she had looked.

Buffy followed her glance and sighed. Xander and Anya were leaning against a nearby wall…kissing each other as though they were trying to locate each other's tonsils

Buffy saw Max watching the pair with a raised eyebrow. Max gave Buffy a look, and Buffy cleared her throat. This could so backfire… "Hey, guys, look who's here. Logan and…and Max."

"Max who," Xander mumbled against Anya's lips as he began a path from them towards her neck. Anya smiled coyly and moved her attack to his earlobe.

Buffy turned to Max and shrugged. "You were right."

Max smiled, and turned to Logan. "Ready to start this game?"

He gave his wheels a sharp push to where the cues were. "Yup. The sooner we get going, the sooner I can change."

"Right there with you," Max agreed.

Buffy, Tara, and Willow watched Max as she too picked out her cue, and then took a slow walk around the table, running a hand along the surface. "They do realize that this is mostly the high school/college crowd right? Not exactly a wealth of…well…wealth here," Willow pointed out.

Buffy sighed. "They know. They're also pretty desperate. Not that Max had a major income from her poker playing down at the Fishbowl or anything, but something was better than the nothing they have now."

Tara glanced at Logan, who was reaching down under the table to remove the pool balls. "In spite of that, they seem to be holding together okay."

Buffy shrugged and took a sip of her soda. "Considering where they came from…this is probably a picnic." The two women settled back and watched Max and Logan begin a "friendly" game.

Max ignored the ongoing conversation between Buffy and Tara, even though she had a feeling they were talking about her and Logan – again. It was the favorite topic of late, one that Max herself was sick of hearing about. She rarely focused her hearing to catch any words related to her and Logan's predicament. She casually moved to stand next to Logan as he finished racking the balls.

"There's a slight tilt to the far right corner of the table. Could cause some problems. The felt is pretty smooth, though. Nothing that should throw off shots too much," she murmured as Logan carefully pulled the triangle away and sat it back in its slot.

He looked at her, surprised, and smiled as she just shrugged. "Friendly game, right?" He took aim, and struck the cue. The pool balls rattled off of each other and the sides of the table, before several smoothly slid into the pockets. Logan grinned. "Stripes."

Max rolled her eyes as he cockily moved to another part of the table for his next shot. And his next. When he finally missed a shot, Max sashayed over to the table and slowly bent over, feeling several pairs of eyes lock on certain…aspects…of her body. She knew that those eyes were most likely attached to men stupid enough to risk their money on a game of pool to get close to her. The ones who weren't stupid would be drawn because of the quality of play. She sunk her next three shots before she reached a point where she had no more good shots left. She took a shot that left the cue ball in a rather poor position for Logan.

He shook his head as he carefully lined up his next shot, all too aware of the eyes that were watching him and Max. He tried to make sure that his play was clean, but not spectacular. All of his special tricks could wait for later. As soon as he sunk the eight ball and left Max rolling her eyes, he felt a slight tap on his arm. He set his cue on the table and turned. Two young men, both likely college students, were eyeing both the pool table and Max's physique, not necessarily in that order.

"So, man," said the one who had tapped him, "do you and your girl do pairs?"

Logan tried not to grimace at the phrasing of the question. "We might be persuaded to do some team play." At the man's blank look, Logan slowly slid a five-dollar bill out of his pocket, and set it on the edge of the pool table.

The man nudged his friend, who was busy trying to puff out his chest, and said, "Kit, give me a five."

Kit mumbled, "Sure, Roger," as he slowly dug around in his pocket and pulled out everything within, dropping it in Roger's hand, not even noticing as several coins clattered noisily to the floor.

Max slowly sashayed over. "Let me get that for you." She bent down at the waist, and began picking up the coins.

Logan swore the temperature in the room ratcheted up ten degrees before she stood again. He also swore that more coins had fallen than Max handed to Kit.

Roger rolled his eyes at his friend as he set some of the money on top of the Logan's five-dollar bill. He rolled his eyes again at his blustering friend not fifteen minutes later as Max scooped the money off the table, leaving the original five there. "Thanks for playing, try again later," she said as she turned her back on them. She looked out at the small crowd that had begun to gather. "Who's next?"

Buffy, Willow, and Tara laughed and talked amongst themselves as they kept a casual eye on the play. Max and Logan quickly made the most of those interested either in them or in the game itself, racking up a nice chunk of change on the side. They had just finished up a game where a guy couldn't concentrate on what was going on with the table because his girlfriend was flirting with Logan. Finally, in a huff, he grabbed his girl by the arm, leading her away, not even bothering to wait it out to the end.

As negotiations began between the Seattle pair and a couple of people who looked to be hard-core players, Tara cautiously asked, "Have they heard anything from Giles' friend yet?"

Buffy sighed and shook her head as she drained the last of her soda. "Not a word. The waiting wouldn't be so bad if they weren't, well, waiting."

"Waiting for what, love?" came a voice from behind them.

All three turned, and Buffy sighed again, seeing who it was. "What are you doing here, Spike?"

"Heard some rumors, thought I'd see if you heard the same," the vampire answered as he took a seat on the arm of her chair, lifting his feet to rest on the edge of Willow and Tara's couch.

"What rumors?" Buffy asked, coming to attention.

"New creepy. Waiting for what?" he repeated.

"What creepy?" Willow interrupted. "A demon creepy, vampire creepy, or a crawly-type creepy?"

Spike regarded the witch, running his tongue over his teeth before finally replying, "Not sure. Just rumors that there's something new in town. Thought I'd come see if you'd killed anything lately that might fit the bill."

Buffy pulled herself off of the mental high alert, and reclined in her chair once more, looking away from Spike in favor of the pool table. "Spike, there's always some type of creepy in town. I'm all in favor of the rumor mill as a process, but next time, would you mind bringing me something with some substance?"

Spike frowned as he followed Buffy's attention to the pool table, just in time to see Logan perform a fancy jump shot to cheers of the surrounding crowd. "Fine. How 'bout you spread some, then? Rumors, that is. What are you waiting for?"

"I'm not waiting. They're still waiting."

Comprehension dawned. "Ahh. Waiting for Willow to fix her mistake?"

Willow fisted her hands in the couch cushion, feeling slightly hurt. "It wasn't a mistake."

"Looked like a mistake to me," Spike replied, goading the redhead.

The hurt quickly morphed, and Willow huffed an angry breath. She tried not to think of spells to turn Spike into a speck. "Granted, the results weren't what we'd planned, but I know I didn't make a mistake! I've gone back over every syllable of that spell, every movement, bajillions of times. Not the easiest spell in the world to perform, but I know I did it perfectly!"

Rather pleased for getting her riled, he poked at her again. "Well, I can't see as how pulling people through time would be the same as, say, floating a pencil. Can you even do that now, witch?"

Tara's mouth dropped open as Willow began to lean out of her seat. "Don't!" she managed to chirp, worried what her lover was going to do.

Willow leaned over far enough to pick up her bag that was sitting on the floor, and rifled through it. Finally, she whipped out a pencil, and thwapped it on the table in anger. "You wanna see me float a pencil? Fine, I'll float a pencil." She took a deep breath, mentally compartmentalizing the anger into one little anger ball and carefully set it aside before focusing her energies. She braced her hands on her knees, and stared at the pencil.

The pencil slowly lifted from the table and hovered about six inches in the air, where it remained, steady.

Willow smiled in relief and in success. "See? Not a problem."

"Brava," Spike said dourly.

As the crowd dispersed from around the pool table, Max looked up from her final shot to win the game, in time to see Willow float the pencil and smirk at Spike. Max frowned and, leaving Logan to collect this round's winnings, slowly stepped towards the Sunnydale group, intent on examining the trick.

The pencil wobbled. Willow's smile fell away, and she looked at Max.

The closer she stepped, the greater the wobble grew. As she bent down and peered at the pencil, the wobble became a spin. Suddenly, the spin quickly turned the pencil into a flying projectile.

"Ow!" yelled Spike as the pencil jammed sharply into his arm. "Watch what you're doing. You nearly dusted me!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Now would that have been such a bad thing?"

Although Spike snorted and simply pulled the pencil from his arm, Willow frowned and stared at Max, wondering.

* * *

Giles impatiently walked around behind the counter of the Magic Box as he waited for the operator to come back on the phone. The elevator music on the other end of the line was driving him nearly insane. Finally, after another few minutes wait, the operator came back on the line. "Yes, I'm still here. What…? No connection at all? Did you try re-routing through Fianarantsoa or…? Of course. You tried that, too. Yes, I realize the person I am trying to reach lives in the middle of the mountains in the middle of nowhere. Yes, I also realize that his one phone line in his entire camp may take up to a month to repair. What I'm saying is that…yes. Good evening to you, too." Giles set the phone back on its hook with a bad tempered click. "Hag," he couldn't help adding.

Taking a deep breath, Giles tried to settle down. He was getting frustrated with his continued inability to reach Maurice. "It might be a hell of a lot easier to reach him via telegram," he told himself as he began to straighten some of the books and papers he had left on the counter. "Or possibly carrier pigeon." He pondered that for a moment, then shook his head at himself and turned towards the front of the shop.

Outside the window, a creature lurched by in the dark, its hideous maw chewing on a piece of leg.

Human leg.

"Geeeeyaaagh!" exclaimed Giles, startled. He could do nothing more than take in the hideous form of the monster as it trailed bits of skin and blood and wandered away. When it was out of sight, he turned back to the counter and groped for the phone. "Where is she? Bronze. The Bronze. That's right." Giles shuddered. "Can't go there. Beepy thing! That thing. Need to call the beepy thing."

* * *

The rag-tag group slowly walked out of the Bronze and into the alley, chatting and laughing about events of the evening. Willow was more subdued than usual.

"Hey, do you think that pencil—?" Willow cut herself off as she saw several figures step out of the shadows.

"What have we here?" a gravelly voice said. As the man stepped further into the lighted area, his greasy features became more visible, and all present could see the gun in his hand. A large dog in the group began to growl.

Buffy slowly raised her hands, and could see the others mimicking her actions out of the corners of her eyes. "What do you want?" Before she got an answer, she heard Max sigh.

"Trash. I thought you would have been content with the last time I kicked your ass. Come back for more?" Max snarled sarcastically.

Buffy turned her head uncertainly, and saw Logan shaking his while lowering his hands. "I take it you two know each other?"

Max took a short, cautious step forward. "Yeah, we do. You could say we had a bit of an altercation in my early days here, before I picked him up and heaved his slimy self out of The Fishbowl."

Trash's two equally filthy looking partners snickered as his face turned several interesting colors. He extended the gun arm, and shook the weapon menacingly. "You mean when you cheated and stole my money!"

"Actually, it was when you proved exactly how much you suck at poker." Casting a wary look at the dog, Max looked back at Buffy, who still had her hands in the air, and asked, "He happen to be a demon, vampire, or anything else you kill?"

Buffy was entirely confused, but answered anyway. "Um…no, I don't think so."

Max shrugged and turned back to Trash. "Guess I'm gonna have to take down this bitch myself."

"You just called me a bitch!" Trash exclaimed, as he turned more colors.

"Yes, I did. Although, I'd prefer you were a bitch without this…" Max moved, and suddenly she had the gun in her hands, pointing it at Trash. She smiled at his stunned blink, and quickly slid out the clip and ejected the bullet. She tossed the gun to Logan, who deftly caught it. "…because I really don't like guns," she finished up.

Trash could only stare at his empty hand.

"Now, you and your peeps can leave before I feed you to your ugly-ass dog, because this is MY turf now." Max cracked her knuckles as she sidled towards them.

Trash took a sharp breath before looking at his cronies and nodding. "This isn't over," he said. The man handling the growling dog gave an impatient tug on its leash before turning.

Max grinned as she watched them stalk away. "I sure hope not."

The stunned Scoobies clustered around Max, and Logan pulled up next to her. "Mind telling us what that was all about?" he asked.

"He's a sore loser," she said cagily. She frowned down at Logan. "What are you going to do with that?"

Logan looked at the gun in his lap. "Couldn't hurt to keep it, I guess. It's a decent piece. Do you mind?"

"Mom might," Buffy answered in place of Max.

"Oh, right, because she's more comfortable with stakes, crossbows, and big axes," Anya scoffed.

"Do you mind?" Logan repeated, directing his gaze to Max.

She looked at the clip in her hand, and held it out to him. "Not like it's any different than usual."

Before Logan could say more, a strange buzzing sound cut through the silent air. Everyone looked at each other, before realizing that the buzzing was coming from Buffy's purse. "Um…Buffy?" Willow said.

Buffy's brows knit as she rifled through her purse and pulled out a pager. "Geez, I didn't realize I still had this. Mom must still be paying the bill..." she trailed off. "It's a 911 from Giles. Come on, we've gotta get to The Magic Box."

* * *

_Coming March 5, 2005 – Chapter 8: Acceptance - March 15, 2001_


	3. March 15, 2001

_March 15, 2001_

Early in the morning, a majority of the Scoobies, plus two, had gathered at the Magic Box for some early morning research on the newest bad. Giles' description was rather vague, since he'd been distracted by the devouring of human flesh, but he was attempting to sketch a reproduction. All who knew Giles were well aware that it wouldn't be much help.

Tara looked over at Max, who was returning from getting yet another book from the shelves. For a change, Max had decided not to dangle off of the upper balcony railing. "Is…is that for our stuff, or yours?" she asked, trying tentatively to engage the woman in conversation.

Max began quickly turning pages in the book. She eyed the shy witch with a touch of humor in her eyes. "Mine. Yours is too vague, and frankly, I just don't care enough."

"Oh," was all Tara could say, her eyes widening slightly.

Max shot Tara a lightening fast grin. "Just tellin' it like I see it." She paused and raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to be so nervous to talk to me. I don't bite…much."

Tara could only laugh, and felt herself relax… slightly.

Across the room, Giles was sighing into the phone. "Thanks for trying, Xander. No, not your fault. Tell Anya I'll see her this afternoon." He hung up and turned to the room, briefly ignoring Willow, who was idly rolling his pencil back and forth. "Buffy, Xander said there wasn't anything in the papers or the news this morning about a death or any recent missing persons."

Buffy looked up from the book she was idly scanning and yawned. "So, you mean, instead of researching a figment of your imagination, I could be home taking a nap? Gee, and just when I was hoping I could fall asleep in class…again."

"Buffy, please be patient." Giles frowned. "You're just as likely to skip class."

She grinned. "True. You go ahead and keep drawing…whatever it is you're trying not to draw, and I'll keep researching patchwork monsters." Giles reached for his pencil, and noticed Willow was still playing with it. "Are you done with that?"

"No," she said distractedly. "Giles, does it ever just…go away? Magic, I mean. Can it go poof? Just…poof?"

"Willow," he said exasperatedly as he quickly pulled the pencil away from her. "What in God's name are you talking about?"

"Me, Giles. I can't seem to do anything right lately. Magic-wise. Hell, last night I tried to float a pencil, and failed miserably. I almost even managed to stake Spike with it."

"I dare say you must be getting rusty if you missed his heart," he said glibly.

Willow frowned at him. "I wasn't trying, Giles. It was an accident."

He sighed, realizing just how concerned she was. "Willow, the magicks…don't just suddenly go away. Especially not for someone with the strength of your developing powers. And that's just what they are: developing. You can't expect every spell you cast to work perfectly every time. They can be affected, of course. Stress, illness…"

"But, Giles…"

"Willow." He slowly slid the pencil over to her. "Show me."

She took a deep breath, and concentrated as hard as she knew how, trying to block out everything around her. Remembering Giles' mention of stress, she said to herself, _I am cool, calm, and collected. I am the stressless wonder._ Slowly, the pencil began to lift above the countertop. It hovered in the air, perfectly still.

Willow let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and smiled. "It worked."

Giles reached over and patted her hand. "Of course it did."

The pencil wobbled.

Willow and Giles looked at each other, their smiles simultaneously sliding away. The pencil straightened, then wobbled, straightened, and wobbled again. "What on earth…?" Giles began, as the pencil repeated the pattern again.

Willow turned, and glanced over her shoulder. Nearby, she saw Max pacing with a book. "Giles."

Giles looked in the direction she was looking, and then looked back to the pencil. He, too, noticed the correlation between the pencil and Max's movements. "Max," he called. Max closed her book and began to wander over. As she approached, the wobble of the pencil became more pronounced, and it started a slow spin. "Max, stop!" he snapped.

Max stopped her approach, and held her hands out. "What?" she asked, sounding rather perturbed.

Giles could only stare at the slow rotation in the pencil. "I'm not sure what is going on here. Max, step away, slowly."

Max rolled her eyes, but complied, taking slow steps as Giles waved a hand at her.

He kept his eyes on the pencil, almost disbelieving as the pencil rotation slowed, turned into a wobble, and then steadied out.

"Would somebody mind telling me what the hell is happening?" Max crossed her arms, and eyed the witch and the watcher.

"I believe you are somehow…affecting the magic. I don't know why," he answered her unspoken question. "Logan, would you mind coming over here, slowly?"

"Sure," he replied from where he had been watching the whole by-play. He slowly wheeled towards Giles and Willow. As he came closer, the pencil continued to hover as it had. No movement, no wobble whatsoever.

All eyes swiveled to look at Max.

"I didn't do anything," she said defensively.

Giles scratched his head, not quite sure what to make of the situation. "We know you didn't, Max. It doesn't change the fact that you are inadvertently doing…something."

As Willow slowly lowered the pencil back to the tabletop, a thought dashed through her mind. "Giles, the books!"

Giles actually paled before he snapped, "Max, get out of the store. Now!"

Her eyebrows knit angrily, but she threw the book she was holding on the table, and quickly walked out through the alley door. She was followed by everyone from the shop. "Do you mind?"

"I'm sorry, but…Max, it seems that you are somehow affecting magic. The books and many of the other items in the shop, they are not just for research, or for focusing magic. They also physically _contain _magic," Giles explained.

"So, basically you're saying instead of just messing with a pencil, I could implode all of the crap in this joint."

"Yes. I'm sorry, Max. This means you won't be able to come back into the store until we have a better handle on the situation."

She sighed. "Which means I can't help look into getting us home." She looked at Logan. "At least you can stay."

He smiled weakly, in one way worried about the new development, in another, feeling for Max and how frustrated she must be with the new limitation. "Yes. I'll stay here and double my efforts. How about you head to the library and use their net connection? See what you can find that way."

"No problemo. See ya." Max slowly walked away.

As everyone re-entered the Magic Box, Tara commented, "Just when you think things can't get any weirder."

Buffy smiled wryly. "Tara, you've probably just jinxed us. For all we know…" Buffy trailed off as she passed the front counter, and picked up Giles' sketch. "Um…gang? I think things have just gotten weirder." She held up the picture. "Giles, don't you recognize what you were drawing?"

Giles frowned as he squinted at his own rather pathetic picture. "It only somewhat looks like what I actually saw, but I figured at the very least I would be able to give a decent approximation of what I had seen."

"Giles, we know. You suck. Now, take a closer look. Imagine it with a few more human parts…and with you as the position of 'mind' in the Uber-trio."

Giles' head snapped up sharply. "Adam? You're talking Adam…I mean, Initiative creation?"

"Initiative?" Logan peered around the group at the drawing. "Didn't you tell Max and me that this…soldier/monster creating group was defunct?"

"That's what we had thought," Buffy mumbled. "Maybe we were wrong."

Logan eyed the picture closely. "It looks to me like you have another problem."

"What?"

"This pieced together monster…You have a second chimera on your hands."

Giles, Buffy, Tara, and Willow looked at each other, remembering the message: _Don't kill the chimera_.

They were all thinking it, but Giles managed to voice it first. "Oh, crap."

xxxxxxxxxx

It was late that night before Giles locked up the Magic Box and made his way back to his house. On the short drive, he considered all of the general unproductiveness of the day. There seemed to be an awful lot of questions popping up about any number of assorted subjects, and a massive lack of answers to anything. Chimeras, spastic magicks, demons…it was all piling up.

He sighed as he pulled into his parking space. Just for once, he wished he could find one answer to something…even if it was simply a pesky New York Times crossword puzzle. He frowned at this thought, and also at the figure lurking in his doorway.

The figure stepped into the porch light and Giles could see that it was a young man – barely more than a teenager – wearing a hat that said "Zippy Courier" on it. "Jeez, dude. I've been banging on your door for, like, ten whole seconds."

Giles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Those are ten seconds you won't ever be getting back now, will you?"

The courier shrugged. "Dunno. Need a signature." He thrust a small clipboard under Giles' nose, and snapped his gum. As Giles took it, and quickly signed it, the man asked, "Who you know in a place like Mada…mada…madanascar?" He held out the package.

Giles' inner alert began to go off as he took the package and looked at the return address. "Madagascar," he corrected distractedly. He quickly fished into his pocket and took out a couple of bills. "Thanks."

The courier looked at the two twenties. "Thanks, grandpa." He quickly jogged to his moped and sped off.

Giles tore the paper off of the package as he went inside, and read the note sitting on top.

_Rupert_

_I know this is more than the simple spell I'm sure you were hoping for. I had to bring in a little outside help – discreetly, of course. Ceridwen, an accomplished witch, who happens to have a bit of the sight. I'm sure you remember her quite well. While she was looking over the document you sent, she had a vision. The information gleaned from this, while I'm sure was partly information you already knew, you cagey bastard, also answered several of our own questions. Rupert, what you have here is bigger than either of us realized. I've included as much information as we have. It's the best we could do._

_Cordially,_

_Maurice_

Giles' brow furrowed over the letter, and he glanced at the pile of paper underneath. There had to be at least two hundred pages of information there. One part of him said that it had been a month, that it could wait until morning, when he was less exhausted. The other part looked at the first few lines... then both parts realized he couldn't look away.

xxxxxxxxxx

_Coming March 26 – **March 16, 2001**_


	4. March 16, 2001

_March 16, 2001_

Logan took a minute to stretch as he sat outside of the door to the Magic Box. Giles had called him earlier that morning and had asked him to come by before the shop opened…without Max. Luckily Max had been asleep, for a change, and Logan didn't have to come up with some excuse for the call. He cracked his neck, wishing he had allowed himself that last cup of coffee, and then opened the main door.

Upon entering, he saw that he could have taken the time for that last cup. Giles was resting his head on some books, and gently snoring. Logan smiled, and quickly rolled down the ramp. He moved over to Giles and gently shook his shoulder. "Giles."

"Why don't we have a round of cribbage, and tumble one down the sink?" Giles murmured.

Logan sat up, not entirely sure he wanted to know what that meant in British. "Giles," he said, louder this time.

Giles' head snapped up. "Huh? Wha— oh, Logan." He briefly rubbed at his eyes and resituated his glasses on his nose. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Obviously," Logan responded dryly. "You didn't have to call me over so early if you were tired. The shop doesn't even open for another hour."

Giles stood and stretched. "No, I'm fine. It was urgent for you to stop by." He motioned for Logan to take a place at the table, and picked up his own papers from the countertop. "I received a document late last night…from Madagascar."

Every cell in Logan's body immediately was alert. "Madagascar? You mean…Max and me…you found out something?"

Giles hesitated. Every detail would have to be handled carefully. "Something, yes. I have well over 200 pages of something. I won't go into great detail just yet, but the first thing you should know is that Maurice has found a way to send you home."

Logan closed his eyes, relieved. "That's wonderful, Giles. How?"

"Well, it's a complicated spell, but I would expect Willow and Tara to be able to perform it with great success. They…do much better tag team," he explained. "Their powers are much more focused then. The spell is a very specific one, and can only be performed at the equinoxes. Luckily, we have one coming up very quickly."

"March 21," Logan supplied helpfully.

"Actually, March 20, 5:14 am. That's the time of the true vernal equinox this year. The other is more of a placeholder…" Giles trailed off as he noticed Logan's excited expression slowly change to dread and suspicion, and knew what Logan was thinking. "Don't worry. It's not going to require the blood of a virgin or something quite so esoteric as that. You only need to—"

The meaning of Giles' words finally cut through the hemming and hawing. "'You,'" Logan rasped. "Not 'both of you.' Not 'the two of you.' You said 'you.' Was that supposed to mean me and Max, or just…or just…" he couldn't even say the words.

"Unfortunately, I meant just you, Logan. Max can't return to Seattle with you. She can't…ever return." The words stuck in his throat.

Logan couldn't breathe. He pulled back from the table, and spun his wheels angrily. "That's why she couldn't come. Not just because we were meeting here. We could have met anywhere else. You didn't want her here when you told me this."

"No," Giles admitted. "I wanted to give you the opportunity to hear this first. You have a difficult decision to make."

"Wait, wait. Before I make _any_ decision, are you sure? Is this person absolutely sure that Max can't leave Sunnydale?"

"It's not that she can't leave Sunnydale, Logan. It's a little more complicated than that. You and Max were pulled into our time for a reason. Think of time as something that's not exactly linear, but as a ribbon, that turns and folds back on itself. At the specific point in time when Willow cast her spell, our two times were in extremely close proximity and…"

"Max does weird things to magic," Logan completed. "Are you saying it's her fault?"

"Not intentionally. There would have been no cause for her to even be aware of her…circumstance. Conditions just happened to be right at that exact moment between times. There's quite a bit more…approximately 250 pages more, actually, that will be of quite some importance to those who remain in this time."

"Tell me everything," he insisted.

Giles did. He carefully explained everything that was in the documents to the best of his ability. Even as Logan paled, he pressed on. "For now, this means that she has become locked to this time. She can move forward as it progresses, but—"

"But she can never move beyond it, like I can. Like I can," he repeated, looking a little panicked. "Giles, what do I do?"

Before Giles could say anything, the bell over the door jingled merrily, in contrast to the atmosphere inside the shop. The entire Scooby gang entered loudly, as always. Giles looked at Logan. "What you do is think over this very carefully. _You_ are the only one who can make this decision. I can only give you the information." Giles handed over the stack of paper. "You can look over this, but it stays here. Return it to me before you leave today. I need to get back to our other problem."

He walked over to the others waiting for him in the doorway. "We're just stopping by on the way to the Hellmouth's seat of higher learning, also known as UC Sunnydale," Buffy informed him. "There's evidence of your creature…finally."

Giles' eyebrows lifted swiftly. "There is? What kind?"

"Front page headlines with giant picture of boogeyman in action," Xander said, thrusting the paper under Giles' nose.

"I dare say so." Giles examined the picture of the creature, looking quite hastily assembled, gnawing on an arm. "This is my…creature."

"The arm we saw and the leg you had seen both belong to some poor frat dude, so Thing #1 here is probably hanging over the Evil Baddy porcelain god right now, with a hell of a hangover," Buffy offered. "Giles, can you look more into this chimera thing? I'd like to know whether it's okay to slay this thing or whether I should buy it a drink instead."

Giles hesitating, knowing he had the answer to that question already. But that was another mystery that had to wait for another day to be revealed. "I'm still examining information," he answered truthfully. "But it might be better if I go with you to the scene of the crime to see if there is any evidence of the Initiative being back in town. Guess I close up shop early today."

"Thanks, Giles. Just with the whole Adam thing…he was the last big bad we had who tried to wipe me from existence. I'm just worried that his little brother is looking for payback along with his frat snacks."

"Understood, Buffy. You go ahead. I just need to give Logan a few more books, and then lock up." He waited until the group left and walked over to Logan. "Well…?"

Logan passed back the pile of papers he had flipped through while Giles had been talking to the group. "I need time."

"You can have some time, Logan, but only a few days. Willow and Tara will need time to prepare. You have two days at most."

Logan nodded. "Two days. Fine. Giles, I need you to not say anything to Max. I'll tell her, but not just yet."

Giles hesitated, but agreed. "I'm sure you know best. I'm going to go meet up with the others. Please make sure the doors are locked when you leave."

And then Logan was alone.

XXXXXXXX

_**March 17, 2001** – coming April 2_

_A/N: Many thanks to those who've been reading and reviewing. You really help some days. - D_


	5. March 17, 2001

_March 17, 2001_

Saturday was not a day for goofing off for Buffy like it was for other people, but at least it afforded her a day to sleep in. It was already almost noon, but she wasn't the least bit concerned. "Hey, Mom!" she greeted as she entered the kitchen.

Joyce turned away from the open back door with a smile on her face. "Good morning, sweetie. You're up early."

Buffy shrugged as she walked to the cabinets for a bowl. "Not too much going on last night."

"How's the new monster?"

"Very, very quiet. Whatever this thing is, it only seems to hunt for about two hours out of every fifty. I swear, if everything I was looking for did that…well, I'd have an actual life for a change."

Joyce laughed. "No worries. I'm sure you'll be up to your ears in hordes of hobgoblins in no time at all." She turned back to look out the door.

"Gee, thanks, Mom. Always knew ya loved me." Buffy set the bowl down on the counter and wandered over to stand next to her mother. "What are you looking at?"

"The girls were getting on my nerves. I swear, if Giles doesn't let Max back in the Magic Box soon, I'm going to move out. Dawn is bad enough on her own on weekends. But with an already stir-crazy Max in the mix, I swear. The two of them started the morning off tag-team. I finally shoved them out into the backyard to get rid of the weeds."

Buffy peered out the door and listened to the friendly chatter through the screen. "Doesn't look much like weeding the lawn to me."

Joyce smiled. "I know. Listen."

They had indeed made a good attempt to weed the lawn…for about four minutes. After that point, Dawn decided that their time would be better spent making dandelion chains. Max just shrugged and gave in, mostly feeling like being anywhere but the Magic Box was a waste of her time. But there was only so much she could do on a computer, especially when she had no clue what she was looking for. Google didn't exactly search well on "mysterious disappearing spells."

So, instead, she was brutally sucking at splitting dandelion stems.

Dawn just giggled at her and gently took the dandelion from her. As she was working some teenage-girl mojo on the poor mutilated weed, she grew silent. Finally she took a deep breath and asked, "Max, you said…you said a while ago that I could ask you any questions I wanted. Did you really mean that?"

Max looked up at the girl, surprised. "Of course. I don't say things I don't mean."

"I thought that. I mean…"

"Dawn," Max interrupted. "What do you want to ask?"

Dawn twirled a dandelion in her fingers. "Buffy has told you about me, hasn't she?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes, some. Do you care?"

"I guess not. I feel like I know you, that you're…like me, sorta. Sometimes. But, I was wondering…" She took another deep breath, to steady herself. "When you were sick, with your seizures. When you looked at me, that one time…what did you see?"

Max looked up from the weed she was shredding. "I saw you," she said.

The statement warmed Dawn more than she expected. But even then, she couldn't accept the simplicity of the response. "Max."

Max sighed, dropping the dandelion. She wasn't sure how she could convey the answer the girl required. "Dawn, when I'm sick like that, I see things…differently. I don't always get the images my brain shoots at me. I can tell you this: when I saw…you…I felt safe. And that's not something that happens very often. Whatever those monks made you doesn't matter. What matters is what you _are_, and that's something only you can make."

"Really? How do you know?"

"I see that every time I look in a mirror."

Dawn smiled, feeling like she had been given a special gift. She reached over and placed a wreath of dandelions on Max's head.

Max could only roll her eyes as the young girl giggled.

Inside the house, two women held each other as they saw peace descend on Dawn for the first time in a long time. "If we had said that, it would have fallen on deaf ears," Joyce said.

Buffy smiled. "We have said that. Well, not those words, but we've told her. Haven't we?"

Joyce shrugged. "It's probably just easier for her to hear from someone who is…like her. They are close in age after all. Metaphysically, at least. Dawn hasn't been in human form a year yet, and Max must have been born within the last few years."

Another person had also found a new peace. Logan had been fighting all day with his decision. Every time he thought he was sure, something inside him rebelled. He had to leave. There were people who depended on him in 2020 Seattle. Lives were at stake. He couldn't, in good conscience, choose one woman over the world. Max would understand. Eventually, she would.

He was sure of his decision.

But as he was coming back to the Summers' house after a few hours of hiding out, he heard voices in the backyard. He wheeled up to the back gate and stopped. He didn't hear a word from there. He was just focused on her.

Her hair was shining like fire from the sun hitting it, and she wore a crown of flowers. Her smile was crisp and clear. Feelings that he had been pushing back and hiding for so long, especially recently, flooded through him like a tidal wave.

Logan couldn't leave her. He'd tried, and failed, before. He didn't know why he would be able to now. He never could leave her.

Seattle would still be waiting for him in 2020. He turned, and began to plan for a new life. He picked up the cordless phone, and quickly called Giles from the living room. "Giles. Hey. Listen, I've thought about that whole thing you were telling me about. I think I'm gonna pass. Yeah. No, I'm going to wait a little longer for that. I know, Giles. I know. But trust me, what's a few more days going to hurt? Thanks. Appreciate all your help." After he hung up, he smiled. It wasn't as though anybody was listening, but it never hurt to be guarded.

He had already left again by the time Max had entered the house. As she headed upstairs for a shower, Buffy caught her by the arm. "Did you mean what you told her? Can you just say it'll be okay and let it all go, what's happened to you, just like that?"

Max casually turned and shrugged off the hand. "Didn't your momma teach you it's rude to listen to other people's conversations?"

"Oh, come off it. It's not like anything has ever gotten by you since the moment you dropped into our lives. Answer my question."

"Give me the English translation, first."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "What Manticore did to you, can you just ignore it, and let it go?"

"I'm going to need to be a lot less sober before I answer." Max turned, and was once again stopped by Buffy's grip. She raised an eyebrow. "You looking to lose a hand today?"

"Got time for a drink tonight?"

"Don't you need to save the world or something from undead evil vampire demon things?"

Buffy waved that away. "Vampires are demons so that's rather redundant. They…never mind. The world will be fine tonight. Whatever this new thing we have around here is, it seems to be keeping the rest of the undead evil at bay. Tonight?"

"Fine. You bring the booze."

"Fine."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Spill it."

"Spill what?"

"Less of your scotch, for one. I don't think my carpet appreciates it much." Buffy sighed. "You'd think someone like you could hold your liquor better… literally."

Max looked up from her place on the floor. It had taken a bottle and a half, but a nice slow burn had taken up residence in her gut. "You don't think alcohol affects my balance much?"

Buffy rolled over on the bed until her head hung over the edge. She had drunk only about a quarter of a glass, just enough to be "sociable." She really wanted to be sober for this conversation, and if she had to get Max completely toasted to get her to talk, so be it. Even if it took five more bottles. "I don't think much affects your balance, even 80 proof. So why don't you talk now while you're still sober?"

"I'm not sober."

"Sure you are. You're just pretending not to be. That way, if necessary, you can tell me to put anything you say to the drunken ramblings of a madwoman. I promise if you start now, when you're done, I'll help you drink to forget." The blonde woman took a small sip and waited patiently.

Max stood slowly and looked at Buffy. "Problem is I don't forget much. I was designed not to. Designed." Max got up and began to wander around the room, looking at everything and nothing. She examined the pattern on the wallpaper, smudges on the window.

Buffy watched patiently as Max finally walked over to her desk and picked up a picture of Dawn and Buffy as young children, holding hands and laughing at the beautiful day. "That was the summer Dawn decided 'Ring-Around-the-Rosie' was the greatest game ever invented in the history of mankind. She was three at the time, and every time I played it with her, she would get this giddy smile." Buffy frowned as a thought occurred to her. "It's been a long time since I've seen that smile."

Max turned. There was a vacant look in her eyes, one that Buffy noticed appeared when she was thinking of the past. "Soon after we escaped, I ended up at a park. I saw so many children there. I thought that maybe it was some sort of training field for Outside children. Somewhere I could belong. But then I heard that poem…"

"What poem?" Buffy asked.

"Ring-Around-the-Rosie. It terrified me so much that I ran. I didn't go back to a park for years after." She began to set the picture back on the desk, then changed her mind and held on to it.

Buffy's jaw was slack with disbelief. A self-proclaimed trained killing machine frightened by words. "What's so scary about that?"

Max slowly walked over to the window, staring off into the night. "'Ring around the rosie. A pocket full of posies.'" Max looked back over her shoulder towards the bed where Buffy was now sitting rigidly, completely attentive to what would come. As if she knew… "Krit had a pocket full of posies, or whatever. Some flower from the forest we trained in. They were this bright… violet… vivid color. We knew what purple was, of course, but it was something that didn't exist in our world. All we had were muted colors – grays, olive greens, browns, and dull whites. Nothing to give us a sense of, well, anything. So Krit had picked as many as he could and stuffed his pockets with them." She paused, and waited, looking expectant.

A few long seconds passed before Buffy realized that Max wouldn't continue unless she asked. "So… what happened?"

"One of the guards at the barracks saw them. Of course." Max smiled a little. "Krit was always the worst at hiding anything." The smile fell away. "The guards tried to take them. The posies."

"Why?" Buffy wondered.

"Contraband. Non military or supportive materials," was the succinct answer.

"Oh."

Max shrugged. "Krit wouldn't let go. The guard smashed his face with the butt of a rifle. He still wouldn't drop the damn things! They were _his_. _He_ had found them! No matter what, the guards couldn't open his grip."

"Must have been somewhat like yours," Buffy said softly.

Max was lost in the memories now, staring at something that couldn't be seen. "Petals were falling. The leaves were shredded. And he still wouldn't let go. They finally had to beat him unconscious to open his hand. He spent a week in solitary. By the time he got out, all the flowers were gone. And the few times we saw purple after that, Krit would…well, let's just say he didn't handle it."

She shook off the memory. "What do you do when you face fear every day of your life? We couldn't be afraid of drills, trainings, beatings. So we became afraid of colors, things. Transference. Jondy was afraid of slamming doors instead of munitions drills. Fish frightened Syl. We all had our unusual fears. The psychologists didn't really care. As long as we could handle bullets and land mines, nothing else mattered." Max slowly sat on the edge of the bed next to Buffy.

"What are your fears?"

Max smiled. The question had been inevitable. "You know. Guns. School."

Buffy almost grinned at the swift evasion. "I meant then. You said you all have your fears."

"Ravens," came the soft reply. Then a shrug. "That answer your question? The first one?"

It was Buffy's turn to frown. "Actually, I feel that you've walked completely around it and didn't answer a thing. You told Dawn that it could be simple to move beyond 'being made.' But that was your life. Have you really moved beyond it all? From what I know of you, you haven't," she felt compelled to point out.

"That's not the point."

"It isn't?"

"Not at all." Max looked at Buffy for a long minute before telling her. "Before we escaped, Jack and Eva and others died before they could have a chance to be free, or while taking that chance. Out of the original 48, only twelve made it out. A quarter of the only family I'd ever known. Of those twelve, I've only ever seen four, and those all in the past year. Brin, who was recaptured and reprogrammed, now Manticore loyal. Tinga was recaptured right before I came here. Probably like Brin now. Zack was recaptured, and tortured before he escaped again. And Ben…" Max trailed off as tears threatened to form. She swallowed, blinked them back quickly, and continued. "Ben's dead. And I'm here."

Buffy could feel the pain radiating off the younger woman. "I'm sor…"

"Don't." Max snapped out, resuming her place on the floor. "I don't need your pity. What I'm trying to tell you is that above anything else that has happened or will happen, you have to hold onto the things that can never be taken away from you. Beyond any of it, you are family. You made that as much as whoever made her did. Maybe even more so."

Buffy was silent for a long time as she pondered that. "I guess I've always known that, as much as I wig about the whole situation. I just worry that one day I'll wake up, and the whole mess of our lives that we've pieced together with spit and hope has shattered. That's something that really could happen if god-bitch Glory ever starts doing some more Dawn-hunting again. I'm not sure what I would do if that ever happens. I think…" She stopped as she realized that she wasn't getting a response. She leaned over the side of the bed.

Max was sound asleep on the floor.

Buffy sighed. "She sleeps." She stood up unsteadily and pulled an extra blanket down from the bed to cover Max. "One more person in this screwed up town taken care of. When all is said and done, who takes care of the Slayer?" She turned out the light, teetered back to her bed, and quickly fell asleep.

Max opened her eyes, smiled slightly, and pulled the blanket closer.

xxxxxxxxxx

_Paradise Lost: Chapter 8 - March 18, 2001 _coming April 16


	6. March 18, 2001

_March 18, 2001_

Logan had come to the Magic Box, ostensibly for his own research in Max's eyes, but was actually working on the current Sunnydale problem…and laughing at Buffy.

"Honestly, Buffy," Giles was saying, "I don't understand how you managed to get so hung over."

"Me neither," she replied, looking up at him pathetically from where she was resting her head on the table. "I'd only drank a quarter of a glass of whisky. That's it, I swear."

Giles frowned as Logan's laughter picked up. "You shouldn't have had anything to drink. You're underage."

"Max and I were talking…"

"Buffy," Logan interrupted. "Was your glass missing the same quarter, the entire time?"

Buffy frowned and concentrated on the night before. "Now that I think about it, I sipped quite a bit, but never had to refill. That bitch! She set me up, didn't she?"

Logan grinned cheekily. "Yup."

"I swear, when I get home I—"

Giles sighed loudly, breaking off Buffy's tirade. "If you don't mind putting off your quest for revenge for a few days, perhaps we could resume the fight for evil?"

"Do we have anything to resume, Giles? I mean, the last time we heard from the monster of the week, he was still munching on one person." Willow looked around at the group, making sure she hadn't missed something.

"Well, it still seems to be satisfied with the same young man from the fraternity. They found a second arm this morning."

Xander raised his hand slightly, as in habit. "Um…I hate to ask, but why does this thingamamonster seem to be getting all his jollies on one person? Don't these things usually get their rocks off munching entire groups of pledges? Why did the Initiative program this doohickey for solo play?"

"I don't know, sometimes, and they didn't," Anya answered, snapping some gum.

All eyes turned to her. "Care to explain, my darling?" Xander asked.

"Well, there are certain monsters who simply like to savor the kill, to stretch out the person-eating as long as possible. Mostly product-loyalty, but—"

"Anya. Not the eating part. The Initiative part." Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh, that. I was bored and went by the old Initiative hidden entrance last night. Well, it's been sealed off since our last visit. The grass is one solid…what's the word? Clod? Swath? Anyway, there's no seam. It's all grown together. Closed. Kaput. Nothing's going on there." There was complete silence as she finished up. She scowled. "What? I can be useful, too."

Giles, although rather surprised at her foresight, gave her a pleased smile. "Of course you are, Anya. None of us ever thought otherwise."

Xander shot the others a quick, guilty look to make sure they didn't disagree.

"So, if it wasn't the Initiative," Buffy stood quickly and leaned on the table as the world spun. "Shit, I swear as soon as I'm not hung over, I'm killing her. If it wasn't the Initiative, what do we really have here? An Initiative-ish baddie. Kinda looks like Adam, without the human or machine bits. But, why is it so…so…?"

"Primitive?" Tara added. "That picture that the newspaper caught, you know, the one that was later re-labeled as an alligator? It didn't look like that Adam did. Seamless."

Willow picked up the train of thought. "Raw, primitive. Like a…an early experiment. It makes sense. All good scientists - hell, even the mediocre ones - have preliminary work. It makes sense that the Initiative would have some early projects, just to make sure that the big one would turn out right."

"So this early work," Buffy continued, "or pre-Adam – hell, let's just call it Bob for lack of a better name – Bob was made as a prequel to the big show. Bob pretty much sucked, and they what? Set it out with the trash?"

Giles pondered the new conjectures. "It would make sense. A failed experiment would have no use. It would be disposed of. It's very possible that, assuming that those in charge of the experiment failed to properly dispose of…Bob. Someone may have gotten a hold of it. Decided to use it for their own nefarious deeds."

The table went silent. Nobody dared to say the words.

"I assume you have some psycho in mind?" Logan asked with an arched eyebrow.

"We do. But this really isn't her style," Buffy pointed out. "She's usually preferred to do the dirty work herself, as long as none of it gets under her nails. Why let some garbage-dump reject have all of the fun?"

Willow sat up quickly, as though a steel rod had been jammed in her spine. "Because she's still hurting! She hasn't recovered from the last fight we've had! Giles, Glory's left us alone for more than a month, and this is the first thing she's throwing at us."

"It's like she doesn't want us to relax, that she wants to show us even though she's down, she's not totally down for the count." Buffy stood and paced. "Okay, where do we take this? Eventually Bob's either going to get tired of microbrew boy and want a leaner, healthier, more abundant snack, or he's going to get some new directives from the uber-skank."

Giles took the lead. "Buffy, you start with light patrol of the campus. Concentrate in the areas of the killing, the original sighting, and all secondary sightings. Willow, Tara, begin work on a locator spell. We need a way to find the…um…Bob. Xander, Anya, and I will patrol the more common areas, and also talk to some of the usual snitches. Anya, there are a few things we need if we are going to go hit up any of the demon bars."

As the main room of the Magic Box began to clear out, Xander turned to Logan and smiled. "This is probably nothing like you're used to in your time, is it? Thanks for hanging and helping us look up stuff. I know you've got your own stuff to be looking up."

"Not a problem," he said, shrugging in response. "I've been enjoying it. Kind of reminds me of the good ol' days. There's not so much difference between looking for a monster and when I'd look for mobsters. I guess I just miss some of the more normal things. Playing basketball down at the park. Making dinner at night, with Max sniffing around for handouts. Ah, well. It is my turn to cook dinner tonight."

Xander gave Logan a manly slap on the shoulder. "Sounds like it's not that different at all...by the way, are we invited for some of these handouts? Never mind." Anya and Giles came back upstairs, and the three soon left. Logan tapped on a book in front of him a couple of times, and just shook his head as he closed it. He, too, was soon gone.

The silence of the shop was thick, and pervading.

At least, that's how it felt to Max.

She stepped out of the upstairs stacks and moved to the railing and stared down at the location where Logan had sat. Giles had come over to the Summers' house early that morning while Logan was out with Joyce buying groceries for the evening's dinner. He had run a few small tests involving her, some books, and a few "empowered" crystals, and determined that she should be okay going back to the Magic Box. Something about potential versus kinetic magic. Whatever.

Obviously, Giles had forgotten to tell anyone else, and Max herself had been content reading through the books in the upper level all day. But hearing Logan talk just then…

Something was up.

xxxxxxxxxx

Logan chopped fresh parsley as though his life depended on it. The stress of keeping his little "secret" was beginning to get on his nerves, literally. Since he had been back to the Summers' house and around Max, he had nearly blurted it out several times. Every time, however, he bit his tongue. He would wait a few days, just until after the equinox, when it would be safer. A day and a half. That was it.

So he threw himself into preparing the pasta carbonara. Cooking had always been good for relaxing him before. It just didn't seem to be doing the trick right now - possibly because Max was in the kitchen with him, chopping bacon. After she finished, she wandered over to the stove and checked the water. "Water's boiling," she said with a quirky grin.

"Good, add the spaghetti and I'll get started on the sauce," he replied, glad Max had said something. She had been rather quiet that evening.

Max frowned behind his back. She'd expected some other comment. Not "add the spaghetti."

"Look, I can finish up from here. Why don't you go set the table and relax for a bit?"

She shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

When she was out of the kitchen, Logan began to breathe a little easier. He hoisted himself up on the counter as he tried to turn his attention to the sauce.

Dinner was more of the same. The strong majority of the participants were distracted. Max was holding a light conversation with Dawn and Joyce. Thanks to her parallel processing abilities, however, most of her brain was concentrating on something else entirely. She pondered, mused, and brooded…and couldn't quite figure out why. She began to push through her meal.

Buffy was also rushing through her meal, but for different reasons. At one point, Joyce frowned at her and commented, "Buffy, you might want to remember to chew before you swallow. Helps you taste the meal."

Buffy swallowed, and grimaced guiltily. "Sorry, Mom, Logan. It's an excellent meal, really. I'm just eager to get going. I feel like we're really closing in on Bob and—"

"Bob?"

"Um…the new thing on the block. We're closing in, and I'm hoping we can nab it between limbs."

"Well, eat your veggies before you go slay." Joyce rolled her eyes towards Dawn.

Both Buffy and Dawn rolled their eyes in return.

Max set her fork on her empty plate. "I'm leaving. Going out."

Logan frowned. "Where?"

"I don't know. Out." Max didn't look at him as she left the table.

xxxxxxxxxx

She had gone to the re-opened Fishbowl first, and filled her pockets with nickels from some of the early games. And now…

Max was staring at the outside of the Magic Box. Something was in there that Logan knew about, that Giles knew about, that she wasn't being told. But she wasn't sure that she was exactly ready to cross that threshold.

"So, you going in or you going to stand there all day?"

Max looked over her shoulder to see Spike watching her. She mentally kicked herself for being so distracted that she didn't hear the vampire coming. "What do you care?"

He inhaled deeply on his cigarette, before flicking it away. "I don't, particularly. Just think it very odd, you lurking out here when you could be lurking elsewhere." He raised an eyebrow. "Need any help poppin' the lock?"

She took a deep breath and walked up to the door. She pulled out her lock picks, and quickly made work of the deadbolt. "Nope."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Nice work."

"Thanks. I'll be happy to teach you that little trick."

Spike rolled his eyes. He looked around. "Déjà vu. I was here with the little bit – Dawn – a few weeks before you and your boy came. I'll look for candles."

Max shook her head as she examined the dark shop. "Don't bother. I can see fine."

"Of course you can. Mind telling me why you're here?"

Max regarded him, still unsure of how much she could trust this particular vampire. "I'm looking for something." She thought of Giles and picked her mark. She quickly boosted herself over and behind the counter.

"What?" Spike was already getting exasperated. He knew demons that were less cagey than this woman.

She pulled out a large stack of paper from a box underneath the countertop. "This." She looked at the name and address on the first page. "Madagascar," she murmured, her brows knitting together.

"Madagascar? What's so important from there?" he asked.

"Answers." Max left the counter, and returned to the main portion of the room. She took a seat at one of the tables, and began reading.

Spike prowled around the room, occasionally poking at something, or looking closely at something else. Every now and then he'd turn to look at Max. She was flipping through pages, her eyes quickly scanning and absorbing the text. The more she seemed to read, however, the more tense she became. It soon struck him that he was watching a snake slowly coil, ready to strike in any direction. When she came to the last page, Spike was surprised that, instead of imploding, she calmly set it on the pile with the rest of the document. "See anything interesting?" he asked somewhat sarcastically. He was a little curious what could hold this spitfire's attention for so long.

Max didn't reply. Instead, she stood and walked back over to the counter, leaning on it to catch her breath. What she'd read…

Her thoughts boiled and brewed in her head, until she was no longer certain she had any control left. She felt a pencil crack under her fingers and knew she had to reign herself back in, quick. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, her gaze caught on, of all things, a tape dispenser. She pulled off a small piece of tape and stuck it to the top of the first paper in the stack. She then took that paper and affixed it to the shelving behind the counter. She slowly reached for a second piece of tape, and the second piece of paper, repeating the process. And repeating it again.

As Spike watched Max tape yet another piece of paper to the walls of the Magic Box, he got the vague feeling that he was actually watching someone slowly go insane. He pondered the situation carefully and decided the least he could do was help. "Can I do anything here?" he asked, indicating the pages.

Max placed a fifth page on the door to the alley. "You can get me something to drink." She looked back over her shoulder towards him. "Something stronger than that rainwater you gave Buffy last night."

He didn't even ask how she knew it had been him. Instead, he glared at her. "What? And spend my honestly stolen cash just so you can get yourself all bevvied up over the whatever it is that's in there?" He held out his hand, and wiggled his fingers impatiently.

Max looked up from her work and didn't say a word as she reached into her pockets. She poured Spike a handful of nickels.

He didn't say anything, knowing the worst thing he could do would be to try arguing with a crazy woman. He'd had plenty of miserably grand experiences at that one already. He swept out of the Magic Box, the merry tinkle of the bell a mocking echo to Max.

xxxxxxxxxx

_Paradise Lost Chapter 8: March 19_ – coming April 16.


	7. March 19, 2001

_March 19, 2001_

"Buffy."

One of the dancing kittens was calling her name.

"Buffy."

Now the dancing kitten was poking her, trying to get her to do the Electric Slide.

"Slayer!"

Buffy's eyes popped open. "_What?_" Spike was looming in her field of vision. She rubbed at her eyes and saw that it was still dark outside. "God, Spike, what the hell are you doing here?" Then her brain woke up a little more and she clutched the blankets closer to her chest. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Heard you the first time, Slayer. Get up. There's trouble at the Magic Box. Call all your little buddies and tell them they might want to get their groove on. That Logan, too. We'll pick the Watcher up on the way." He turned, and walked out into the hallway.

_It must be serious if he's not even going to put up a little show against courtesy._ Buffy swiftly rolled over, and looked at the clock. Three AM. _It had better be serious._

She had no sooner than gathered everyone at the Magic Box, when she discovered exactly how serious it was. "Oh, my God," she whispered.

"It looks like a Xerox machine exploded," Anya marveled.

Logan stared at the cataclysm that was now the Magic Box. The walls were simply covered with pages and pages of paper. He paled as he realized what it was from. "Giles, she knows."

"I'd say she does," he murmured, examining a piece of paper on the main door. It was held in place by a large dagger. "Logan."

"I know, Giles. I'm responsible for this. I should have told her." He rested his head in his hands.

"Would you mind telling the rest of us what's going on?" Buffy crossed her arms, obviously irritated. "Because I was honestly naïve enough to think that Bob the bad was the least of our worries."

Giles looked at Logan first, who nodded. "Tell them."

Giles pulled the dagger out of the door and gestured with it to one of the tables. "We should all sit. The document at hand…or rather, at wall…is from my friend Maurice, in Madagascar."

Willow sat up straight. "Maurice the guy you sent my spell? Maurice the guy who was supposed to fix things?"

"I hate to tell him, but this doesn't look very fixed," Xander commented.

"You're both right. Regarding your spell, Willow, Maurice sent a counter-spell. Unfortunately, it would only be effective for Logan. He had to make a quick choice because this particular spell can only be performed at the moment of the equinox."

Logan looked at his hands at the sudden silence. "I chose not to go," he said softly. A cynical voice inside him was beginning to question his decision.

"Wait," Tara said, looking between Giles and Logan. "Why wouldn't this spell be effective for Max?"

"That's…complicated," Giles began. "And encompasses quite a bit. Maurice is not just a sorcerer I know. He's stationed in Madagascar doing archeological work. He also is one of the major scholars of the Slayer Prophecies."

It was Buffy's turn to sit up straight. "The Slayer Prophecies? Giles, is there anything for me to be concerned about?"

"Not exactly, but there is something for you to be aware of. During the course of his excavation, Maurice discovered a new series of artifacts, often containing large passages on or in them. At first, they were primarily untranslatable. They were a strange mixture of languages, with no exact linguistic rhythm. The only reason he knew these artifacts were even related was due to a common symbol that occurred on all of them. After some time and study, small portions of these passages became translatable. Maurice realized that they were in relation to a mystical being known as 'the Chimera.'"

"I'm guessing that would be Max," Xander commented.

Giles shook his head. "Maurice wasn't aware of that at the time. All he knew was that there were several unusual pieces in the collection that pertained to both the Chimera and the Slayer. 'She shall be chosen of the Chosen.' The Chimera itself was described as a fierce creature, capable of consuming even the strongest of the magicks. More importantly, that she was born in Hell and would one day return to its mouth."

"I get the magic-eater thing, Giles, and the ending up at the Hellmouth part, but…Max wasn't born here," Buffy pointed out.

"Manticore." All turned to look at Logan. "That's where she was born. For the nine years she lived there, it was hell."

Giles nodded, understanding what Logan was saying, and continued. "Maurice had no reason to even connect Max to the Chimera. I hadn't told him the extent of Max's background. But a very powerful seer from a Welsh coven came to his camp to assist with the project and surmised Max's true nature, and the connection."

"Then why the big frantic call?" Xander asked. "Remember? Don't kill the Chimera? Er…Max?"

"That was one of the prophecies. The Chimera and the Slayer would meet, and fight." Giles was able to quote this portion quite well from memory. "'The Chimera knows death. She will look death in the eye, but will not walk with him. For if death comes to the Chimera before her time, so it shall come to the world.'" He paused, watching the knowledge sink in. "In short, when Willow cast her spell, because she is the mystical Chimera, Max 'caught' the magic, which transported both her and Logan to our time. But it also was a powerful enough spell that it locked her here, preventing her return, at least magically. She will, of course, be able to age back into her time. But while she is here, she must not be killed. Or—"

"World go boom," Buffy helpfully supplied. "I got that much. I also get that since Max is definitely this mystical Chimera, it means the other we have on our platters is capable of being destroyed. No offense, Logan…"

"None taken."

"…but it sounds like Max – and you – are going to be here a while. The chimera Bob, however, is now at the top of my eviction list." She stood and looked at Spike, who had been lurking in a corner. "Where did Max go from here? Did she leave before you came to find me?"

Spike took a last pull of his cigarette and tossed it into the urn of Ishtar. _Déjà vu all over again…again. Ah, well, in for a penny, in for a pound._ "That she did, but I don't know how far she's like to have got. She was well and truly pissed. While she was working at her little 'project' here, she downed enough Everclear to kill a flock of sheep."

Logan frowned. "She's drunk?"

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

Logan pushed away from the table, his nerves starting to get the better of him. "I've never seen her drunk before. I've never been sure she could even _get_ drunk, actually."

"Logan, can she handle it? Will she be…dangerous like that?" Buffy asked concernedly.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I don't think so. But, then again, I've never seen her do anything like this, either," he motioned at the papered walls.

"Fine. Spike, go with Logan to look for Max in case she's…acting out in a bad way. Willow, Tara, you got that spell I asked for? Good. Go begin that, and call Xander's cell if you find anything. The rest of us, time to put this thing to rest." She took the dagger from Giles, and nodded to everyone.

xxxxxx

Logan and Spike didn't have to go very far. Max had apparently decided to weave her way back to the Summers' house at the same time Logan and Spike headed there. It was barely past sunrise, but Joyce Summers was waiting at the door. "Logan! Spike?"

"Joyce, is Max here?" Logan asked worriedly as he wheeled inside. Spike casually stepped in behind him and pulled his coat back down from over his head. He didn't mind going on the search, but he did mind sizzling on the way.

She nodded. "She just came in. Logan, she's upstairs and she's quite drunk. What has happened to her?"

Logan just shook his head. "It's a long story. I'll explain later." He moved to the base of the stairs, and called up. "Max! We need to talk."

"Fuck off!" she yelled back.

Spike smiled. "I like the girl's spirit."

Logan turned and snapped angrily, "Back off. You're not helping." He turned back to the stairs. "Max!"

Max appeared at the landing of the stairs, and leaned heavily on the wall. Her eyes were shadowed, but she looked at least somewhat in control. "Look, I really don't want to talk to you right now. Just…go away. Go far away. Try another time."

He huffed at her, frustrated. "Max. Listen to me. Let me explain."

She cocked a hip rather unsteadily. "Why don't you come up here and make me?"

He was getting nowhere fast. "I would if I thought it was worth it." When her dark eyes went flat, he winced, realizing how she mistook his meaning. "I meant—"

"I don't exactly care what you meant. I just really don't care anymore. So why don't you get out of my face and get out of my life." She turned and tripped her way back up the rest of the stairs. They heard a final thunk at the very top.

Logan opened his mouth to yell at her again, when Joyce laid a hand on his shoulder. "Logan, don't. She'll hear you a lot better after she's slept off the alcohol. That, and I think she's passed out."

"Well, my work here is done." Spike flipped his coat up over his head. "Gonna head back to my crypt before the day comes on full." He glanced towards the stairs and grinned. "Have fun with that."

Joyce looked at Logan and indicated the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee while you're waiting?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I guess. Considering what she's been drinking, could be a while."

xxxxxx

Willow and Tara decided to use a spell that they had attempted before with no success. They figured that since it was because the spell, at the time, hadn't been completed, it stood an actual chance of working now.

They sat facing each other on the floor of the Magic Box, with only candles providing light. String was used to form a square between them, with crystals placed around to complete the map. They clasped hands and gave each other a squeeze for luck. Closing their eyes, they began.

Tara spoke softly. "Thespia, we walk in shadow. We walk in blindness. You are the protector of the night."

Willow continued the incantation. "Thespia, goddess. Ruler of all darkness, we implore you. Open a window to the world of the underbeing. With your knowledge, may we go in safely. With your grace, may we speak of your benevolence."

With that, they each blew a handful of sand across the map that was between them. They opened their eyes. Small dots of assorted colors now graced their map.

Tara's eyes widened. "There's a lot of demons in Sunnydale."

Willow shrugged. "Well, when is there not? I think this collection of color is one of the demon bars. They open early." She scanned the map and then pointed to a solo dot that kept shifting color. "I think this is our guy. Made up of lots of demons, remember? It can't give it only one color."

"It's by the university soccer field. We should call Xander."

xxxxxx

"Buffy, soccer field," Xander said, snapping the phone shut.

"That's just a few blocks away." Buffy began to sprint ahead of the others, who slowly followed behind. As she approached the field, she pulled out the dagger she had brought.

The monster, Bob, was standing in the middle of the field, apparently enjoying some of the last tasty bits of its original kill. Buffy saw that it was indeed about as hideous as Giles' drawing. She could count at least seven different demon types that went into making it, none of which color-coordinated well. As she ran towards it, Bob scented new prey and dropped the shoulder it was chewing on. It growled loudly, which sounded more like a hyena gargling than anything scary. It was the razor sharp fingers Buffy was more concerned about.

"I can see that Bob was—" she swung at the beast's head, and quickly dodged a swipe of his hands "— the wrong choice of name for you. I shoulda called you Ed." The beast swiped again and she dived into a roll, punching out with her dagger as she came up. She caught it in the knee and it screamed wildly.

"Do you know how big a pain in the ass you've been?" She swung again, but missed as it limped/dodged out of the way. She did a quick cartwheel back flip and landed next to it. She gave it a quick elbow to the stomach area, another short jab with her bare fist and used the other hand to plunge the dagger into its heart.

It yowled mournfully and fell. A short quiver, and a small twitch, and it was dead.

Buffy blinked at it. "Well, that was…boring." She turned to the rest of the gang that was just now huffing and puffing their way onto the soccer field. "Take a breather, guys. This Bob's down for the count."

xxxxxx

Max was awake after a couple hours, but didn't say a word to Logan or Joyce. She went to the kitchen, grabbed a cup of coffee and immediately went out on the back porch.

Logan briefly considered leaving her alone, but instead realized that he was quickly becoming tired of her tantrum. He went out after her. "You can't ignore me forever. You might as well deal with me now."

Max started at the sound of his voice and turned her head towards her shoulder. Her voice was rather gravelly as she said, "I thought I told you to go away."

"I can't."

"You can," she countered.

He sighed. _This is how we'll be playing this_. "I won't, then. How did you find out?"

She shrugged, still not exactly looking at him. "I had a feeling something was up. Giles gave me clearance for the Magic Box."

Logan rubbed his temples. He couldn't think of a single moment that would have tipped her, but who knew with Max. "He must have forgotten to tell us, with all of the monster business they're dealing with."

"Well, that explains him."

Logan angrily flipped down the brakes on his chair. "Damn it, Max! What do you want from me!"

She stood and spun furiously to face him. "What I want is for you to tell me the truth. I want _you_ to tell me, Logan. _You_, who I should have heard it from the first time."

"You want me to tell you the truth, Max? Fine, here's the truth. You can't leave, Max. You can never go back to there. Happy now?" he snapped out.

Max slowly shut her eyes. Several long seconds passed before she opened them again. They were bright with tears, but none fell.

Logan felt like a heel.

The mask quickly covered up that one glimmer of emotion, and Max was once again glaring at him stonily. "Yes, I am happy now, Logan."

Logan sighed, his own anger beginning to bleed away. "Max, I didn't mean—"

"I'm happy," she interrupted him, not really caring what he was going to say, "because you've finally managed to tell me the truth for a change. You know, it was one thing when you tried to keep your returning paralysis from me. Remember our friend Dr. Vertes?"

"I remember."

"Good. I'm glad. Because that, at least, I can understand. I didn't like it – still don't – but I understand. _This_, I don't."

"Max—"

"I can't understand, because this is _my_ life. _Mine! _And you had _no right_ to keep that from me. Tell me, Logan, if I hadn't found this out on my own, would you have ever told me?"

Logan opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Because he knew.

Max knew, too. The smile she gave him was as cold as a Wyoming winter as she said, "That's what I thought." The smile fell away as she spun sharply on her heel and left.

Logan didn't say a word as he watched her leave. He couldn't. The truth of her words had sliced through him like a knife. All this time, he had been telling himself that he would tell her -- when he could, when the time was right, when they were more settled, whatever. He _would_ tell her.

He had lied to himself.

All it had taken were those dark eyes of hers to reach into his soul and rip out the truth. The truth was… he wouldn't have told her. He would have done anything to keep her from knowing. He knew that if he had told her, that last glimmer of hope in her eyes would have flickered and died. So he kept it from her.

And now watched his last hope walk away.

xxxxxx

_Paradise Lost: Chapter 8 – March 20, 2001_ – coming April 23


	8. March 20, 2001

_March 20, 2001_

Logan looked at his watch again. 5:00 AM. Fourteen minutes until the equinox officially took place and until he was "officially" stuck in Sunnydale - at least, until the next equinox. Technically, it was already too late for him to leave since time travel spells required about three hours of preparation, but there was something about having an actual time to mark the occasion.

He'd been awake for most of the night. His fight with Max kept playing through his mind. He just couldn't get her eyes out of his head. The hurt, the disbelief, the distrust, the fear…all directed at him.

Logan sighed and closed his eyes for a second. He didn't know how he could have been so stupid. She'd lost everything and, by not telling her about the prophecy and the spell the instant he knew, he was helping take it all away from her. Her voice rang through his head, something she'd said a long time ago, a future away.

_I've spent the last ten years looking for him, and Brin, and the others. It's what's kept me going_.

It's what's kept me going.

Logan knew she didn't even have that now. It was all gone. He honestly knew that what he'd had in the future Seattle, he could mostly recreate in the present time Sunnydale. But Max had everything torn away from her, faster than a bullet ripped through flesh. She would never be able to get any of that back.

He felt like he was the one wielding that gun.

Before he could sink any further into his introspection, he heard light footsteps padding behind him and turned. "I didn't think you'd come."

She shrugged, but her eyes stayed lifeless. "I came." She looked at the view from the front porch. The stars were beginning to vanish in the approaching twilight. "Last chance."

He shook his head. "No. I've made my decision already."

She didn't say anything, just watched with him. 5:14 came and went. They both stayed where they were for a long time and watched the sun slowly rise over the quiet neighborhood. In spite of the situation, he thought it was one of the most beautiful sunrises he had ever seen. "Max…" Anything he could think of to say sounded lame. He turned to look at her.

She was already gone.

xxxxxxxxxx

They met again later that day in the Magic Box. They barely spoke to each other as they slowly cleaned up Max's "wallpaper" from the day before. Logan kept the stack of paper, hoping to get a better understanding of the Chimera prophecies. After all, they would be living with this hanging over their heads.

They didn't speak much - Logan knew Max was still quite upset over the whole deal. He really couldn't blame her, but he knew they'd have to start talking to each other eventually. They walked in silence back to the Summers' home. As they approached the door, Logan broke the quiet. "Here's to day one of a new life."

Max stilled with her hand on the doorknob. A few seconds passed before she finally said, "Hope it'll be better than the old one."

Logan smiled, accepting that first step. They went inside together and both stopped short at all three of the Summers' women sitting in the living room. Joyce nodded. "It's good to see you two…together." Both Logan and Max had the feeling she had been about to say, "not trying to kill each other." "Buffy explained your situation," she began. "The three of us have been talking."

Logan hadn't even begun thinking of those first steps yet. "Joyce…"

She held up a hand, warding off anything he could have said. "Before you start saying things we'll regret, I should let you know we've made a decision."

"Yeah," Dawn added. "We decided that since you guys are like dirt poor and have no life or anything…"

"Dawn," Buffy hissed.

"What?"

Buffy rolled her eyes as she picked up the thread. "We figured you'd probably be thinking of trying to leave right away, build something for yourselves here. But since you don't have even identification, let alone pesky little things like credit references and very few personal references for things like jobs and houses…"

"We'd like you to stay here," Joyce finished. "And before you say no, we know how self sufficient you two prefer to be. Xander's already come by. He's said that with a minimal amount of drywalling and duct re-arrangement, he can have the garage refurbished into a small apartment of sorts for Logan. Max, I know you don't sleep much, but figured you'd still want some personal space. There's room in the basement to setup something small for you."

Max and Logan could only look at each other.

"Of course, I'd still expect you to pay rent and help out like you have been. I figure this would be just for a few months or so, until the two of you can get on your feet and become more…established in our time." The three women looked at the displaced people expectantly.

They stared at each other, questions in their eyes, before Logan finally nodded. "Just until we can provide for ourselves. I really don't think we can refuse your offer."

Dawn squealed in delight. "This is going to be great. It's going to be like having family! More family. And the two of you can decorate…"

Joyce and Buffy looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Logan looked at Max, and saw that even she had cracked a small smile. Maybe it really would work out.

xxxxxxxxxx

Max sat on the roof of the Summers' house, staring at the stars and thinking.

_Here I am. Starting over again. I never thought I'd be doing that again, but I guess Fate has other ideas. I'll miss my old life. My brothers and sisters…I never really had them in the first place. Even when I did find a couple of them, they were already lost. Still, I don't think I'll ever stop wondering about them. At least, this time, I'll know. Eventually_.

_For now, at least, it seems evil has been conquered, and good taken over again…_

ooooo

Glory stomped around her grand home, screaming at her minions. "Why do I even bother? I mean, I go to all the trouble to find an animation spell, and we waste it on that tub of mismatched lard! I swear, if that witch hadn't dropped me from about fifteen stories up, I would be out there kicking the Slayer's ass myself, instead of depending on you pathetic trolls." The god ignored the rushed platitudes of her minions and poked one in the chest. "And if we ever do something like this again, you will find something more mass-homicidal! Understand?" She speared the minion again and gasped as her fingernail cracked. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Well, shit…"

ooooo

_I'm not exactly sure what to think of this Chimera thing, though. It was hard enough being one, and now it seems the world is going to make me _be_ something bigger. Prophecies? Predictions? I don't know much about those. All I really understand is the here and now, and that's confusing enough at the moment. But with this town, who knows what'll happen next?_

ooooo

An exotic-looking brunette in a long flowing dress boarded a train. She carefully eased her way down the aisle and daintily took a seat. She smiled at the woman next to her. The woman smiled back. "Are you going to Sunnydale, dear?"

The woman almost shivered as the brunette smiled in return. "Why, yes I am." Her thick, cockney British accent seemed out of place among the chatter of the other passengers. She looked down at the doll she was carrying. "Miss Edith and I are very much looking forward to seeing some old friends…"

ooooo

_The only real problem I've got right now is me and Logan. I've got no idea what's going to happen there. I mean, on one hand, it's Logan, right? We've been through a lot together, including getting sucked through time. On the other hand, with all that's happened, I feel like we're back at square one - no better or worse off than when we first met. I'm just not sure…I'm not sure how I can ever trust him again. Perhaps it's best that we're not cut loose straight off - gives us time to adjust to this dealio._

"Dawn!" The shrill yell echoed clearly through the air. "Give me back my sweater!"

"I don't have your ugly sweater! I wouldn't even want it. It probably smells like demon guts!"

"Dawn, I swear if you don't give it back to me now, I'll—"

"You wouldn't dare! No Slayer powers in the house!"

"Mo-om!" Even more shrill, in unison.

Max couldn't help but laugh.

_Maybe we won't stay here so long after all. I'm not sure Logan and I could adjust to "family" as Dawn so easily put it. But even I have to admit it's nice to be part of something for a change. Even here._

_Here's to day one of a new life._

xxxxxxxxxx

_A/N: Thanks to all who have read and reviewed Chapter 8, especially after the long hiatus PL had. It has been very much appreciated. Again, many thanks to Alaidh and Tallera for their help in prettying up this chapter. _Chapter 9 – Crushed_ will be along in its own time. Unfortunately, real life has a tendency to take over, so it's going to be slow, and happen when it happens. I hope you'll all be able to join me again when the next chapter comes around. - DN_


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